


Nightmares

by Lelline



Series: Hot drinks and cold killers [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Angst, Feels, Jack centric, M/M, Multi, Protective Ryan, Ryan-centric, emotional hurt and comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 19:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5468066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lelline/pseuds/Lelline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan deals with lingering guilt over what he had almost done to Jack.<br/>Jack is there to help<br/>(makes no sense unless you read previous fics)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustAnOkayWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnOkayWriter/gifts).



There was usually something that relaxed inside Ryan whenever he killed.  
It was like drinking a tall glass of water after a run in the height of summer, or the first moment of stepping into a shower after getting covered in something gross. It was getting rid of a itch he couldn’t scratch, or like climbing into bed after a week of insomnia.  
He had to do it. Murder wasn’t a choice, it was more of an addiction and a physiological need. He could hold back for a time, could go on a murder break and keep a low profile, but in the end he always went back to it.  
The only thing holding him back from killing everyone was his family. His soulmates kept him human, kept the dorky harmless side of him alive and well. They didn’t try to change him, they never told him to quit murder, but with them he wanted to do more. He wanted to keep them close, keep them happy. He wanted to wake every morning tangled in limbs and climb into bed every night with a needy lover beneath him.  
He wanted things to never change.  
But he knew he was a dangerous man to love. Just being around him was a way to get killed, either due to one of his urges or due to the fact he made enemies. He tried to keep his head clear during his sprees, tried to pick only targets he could kill without leaving any evidence or causing an uproar. It was hard to stay sane though when faced with the utter relief he felt when committing mass murder. He was lost in it sometimes, lost to the hypnotic dance of death.  
There was no denying he was going a little too far as he cut his way through a group of homeless men under an alleyway. He knew he was too far gone, too animalistic. On a normal spree, he would be left feeling satisfied but guilty, knowing that his soulmates would be disgusted with his work.  
On a normal night he would not be brought back up from his blood frenzy by the sight of an apron.  
He zeroed in on it, the old thing tattered and stained, but still even in the dim light it was obviously the same shade as the one Jack had worn as a barista. It was stretched over the front of a body, the wearer’s beard stained reddish brown with blood.  
It had been black. Ryan tried to remind himself. The man’s beard had been black before Ryan had attacked.  
Still, Ryan was frozen in place, staring at a damn apron and trying not to panic. Jack was at home, he knew, Jack was at home and happy and whole and away from hobo towns. Jack would never be out on a cold winter’s night, and Jack would never wear a barista apron ever again.  
Jack was fine.  
Jack was alive.  
He had never murdered Jack.  
His hands trembled as he wiped his blades clean in his shirt. The scene was a mess, and he knew he should clean it up. He had targeted the group since he knew the police never investigated the disappearance of the homeless, the powerless, but if he left such an obvious scene behind he would bring too much attention.  
Still, even after all the years, he could remember the nightmare that had forced him to accept Jack as part of his family. The dream he had of killing his caring soulmate in cold blood.  
He pulled out his phone, pausing only for a few moments before dialing Matt.

~*~

Jack woke with a start, heart hammering in his chest as he sat up in the middle of the bed. Gavin, groaned on his left, rolling over so he could curl into Ray instead, the two lads too tired to deal with nightmares. Jack didn’t mind them ignoring him as he tried to relax.  
“Jack?” Michael croaked from his spot on the other end of the bed, his curly head peeking up from its previous spot on Geoff’s chest. “Alright?”  
“Yeah.” He managed a smile. “Weird dream.”  
It had been one of those nightmares that were impossibly stupid, making it too embarrassing to explain why he was shaking as he rose from the bed.  
He was five years into a life of crime. He had caused more mayhem and destruction than most terrorists, and he had survived torture and gun wounds. He had stolen money from the top banks, had faced down a drunken angry Joel, and had tied a tourniquet around his soulmates leg when a wound just wouldn’t stop bleeding (and oh, how he had worried that Geoff would die then and there).  
There was no way to explain to the others that he was shaken up from a dream about vegetables. And if Geoff ever learned about it, there would be no end to the teasing.  
He rose to go to the living room, knowing he just needed a few moments to calm back down after the surge of adrenaline. He turned on the TV, putting it on mute even though he knew the others would sleep through the noise. Ryan had to be out, but Jack was far from worried about him. Instead he just curled up into the corner of their sectional and watched the silent game show playing on the screen, soon losing focus on the screen to start drifting off again.  
He startled awake when a bloody hand appeared to reach for his cheek.  
If he let out a yelp, Ryan didn’t seem to notice, only looking mildly worried and a little disturbed as he stood in the living room. He had no mask on, but his face paint was immaculate beneath a thin coating of blood spray. His clothes were mostly red now, but Jack was used to it all, instead focused on the other man’s eyes.  
“Ryan?” Jack murmured, surprised when his only answer was Ryan grabbing his hand. He was pulled up to his feet, making him reach out to Ryan to help him find his balance. The other man shifted his hand until he was wrapping an arm around Jack, keeping him pinned against the other man’s bloody clothes. “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah.” He breathed, voice a little rough.  
Jack wrapped around him, making sure Ryan knew he didn’t want to break the embrace as he stepped back. The murderer allowed him to pull him along, headed for the bathroom.  
It was hard to start the showers when Ryan had attached himself thoroughly to Jack, but he managed with only a few squirms and shoves. Now that he had a hold of Jack, the lighter haired man seemed loathe to let go for any reason.  
Jack just kissed him softly and tugged on his jacket. “Come on. Let’s shower.”  
Even as they stripped down, Ryan kept at least one hand on Jack’s skin at all times, touches lingering by pulse points.  
Jack stepped into the shower first, then pulled Ryan in with him. Red, black and white makeup ran as soon as the water hit it, and Jack’s first priority was to reach up and help wipe it all away. It couldn’t be pleasant having the paint running into his eyes, but Ryan kept his eyes open at first, occasionally scanning down Jack’s body in a way that was not hungry but worried.  
“It's okay, Ryan.” Jack murmured softly. “Everyone is okay. The others are all sleeping in bed. I’m right here. No one is in any danger or hurt.”  
Ryan let out a strangled noise, leaning forward to rest his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. His breathing was a little too fast, but Jack had no idea what to say. He could only hold him, kissing along his shoulders.  
“I love you.” Jack had crooned.  
Ryan had murmured something back, too low to hear.   
The blood had long washed away by the time the water turned cold. Another set of hands reached in at Jack’s first surprised hiss, shutting off the water.  
The door opened, and there was Geoff, standing there with two massive warm towels. “Hey.”  
He’d cleared away the bathroom, the smell of cleaners coming from the spot where Ryan’s clothes had landed. Neither protested as the mustached man wrapped them up, tugging them towards the guest room.  
“What’s up?” He finally asked them, voice cracking and rough from sleep. “You two okay?”  
“Yeah.” Ryan nodded, still palming Jack’s chest. “Yeah. We’re okay.” He pulled Jack in for a kiss, the touches light and chaste.  
Jack just smiled gently, guiding Ryan under the sheets when it was obvious he was finally relaxed enough to sleep. The murderer didn’t go easily, dragging Jack in with him. A heavy head landed on his chest.  
Geoff sighed, but leaned down to kiss them both, tucking them in. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me.”  
Jack nodded, but it seemed Ryan was already asleep.  
In the morning, they’d talk more. But for now they were both safe and warm. Reassured that their nightmares hadn’t come true, the two slept deeply.  
Jack woke first, unsurprised to see their clock pointed at 11 am. He felt well rested, but warm, a familiar body wrapped around his.  
He reached down to card his fingers through Ryan’s hair, and was pleasantly surprised to be rewarded with a sleepy mumble. Ryan was sleeping deeply.  
Hours later, he’d wake him, and maybe they would talk about things. Maybe they’d just brush them off. But he knew that everything was alright. They were together.


End file.
